Mourning Grace
by Jessica12
Summary: Doggett angst - It's the day of Luke's funeral....Please Review!


Title: Mourning Grace  
  
Author: Jessica ( j_rothen@yahoo.se )  
  
Website: www.geocities.com/jlovesxfiles  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Category:Doggett/Barbara,AU, angst, V  
  
Spoiler: None  
  
Archive: Whereever..Just let me know where  
  
Feedback: Yes, PLEASE:...j_rothen@yahoo.se  
  
Summary: It's the day of Luke's funeral.   
  
Disclaimer: The X-files, Mulder and Scully belong to  
  
FOX and they are not mine.  
  
Note: Title is from a poem by Maya Angelou.  
  
I got the idea for this story after watching the pilot  
  
for "Boomtown" and the movie "The Pledge". Weird, huh?  
  
English is not my first language so spelling/grammar  
  
mistakes may occur.   
  
THANK YOU: To Maria for doing a wonderful job helping me here. And  
  
I sincerly hope everything will turn out okay in the end. Take   
  
care of yourself and your family. Once again. Thank you.   
  
**************************************************  
  
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone  
  
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone  
  
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come  
  
  
  
Let airplanes circle moaning overhead  
  
Scribbling in the sky the message: "He is dead"  
  
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public  
  
doves   
  
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves  
  
  
  
He was my north, my south, my east and west  
  
My working week and my Sunday rest  
  
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song  
  
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong  
  
  
  
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one  
  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun  
  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood  
  
For nothing now can ever come to any good."  
  
(Poem is called "Funeral Blues" by W.H Auden )  
  
-----------------------------------------------------  
  
Mourning Grace by: Jessica  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
Sometimes it feels like I'm just an empty shell  
  
walking around.  
  
I wake every morning out of breath. I have to tell  
  
myself to breathe. To remember to breathe.   
  
I rise before the sun has set on the blue sky.  
  
I hate the sun for rising in my world. Every morning  
  
is the same.  
  
I rise.   
  
I walk into the kitchen and stand there clinging to  
  
the warmth of a cup of coffee. Then I go into the  
  
bathroom and stand under the shower for a while,  
  
trying to get my cold shell of a body warm.   
  
But it's no use. I can never get warm enough. Then I  
  
grant myself the few minutes in front of the mirror.  
  
Then I return to the bedroom. To wake her.   
  
Barbara. I kneel down, whispering her name.   
  
She wakes with a scream lingering on her lips. His  
  
name escapes her lips. Every morning is the same. Her  
  
eyes are wild as the meet mine. I understand. I have  
  
had the same dream so many times. But I don't dream  
  
anymore.  
  
I take her hand to steady her. She whispers her plea  
  
to me as she rises from the bed.   
  
To save him. Her son.   
  
I lie and say that I'm going to save him. But she  
  
knows the truth as much as I do. She just won't hear  
  
of it. I can't save him. No one can save him by now. I  
  
guess it's time to stop hoping. She clings to that. To  
  
hope. We walk into the kitchen, slowly. She whispers  
  
his name time and time again.  
  
Her words rip through me like a knife. She stumbled  
  
towards the kitchen table and sits down. She sits  
  
there in silence. I turn on the radio, wanting to hear  
  
something besides the horrible silence.   
  
I turn to the stove to make breakfast. I let my mind  
  
drown in the sounds of the radio. I'm through the  
  
kitchen like a robot. Not daring to move too fast. I  
  
might break and scatter across the room just like  
  
broken glass.   
  
And I can't break. I won't break. She depends on me.  
  
To steady her. To guide her through the day.  
  
I fix her a plate then I sit down opposite her. She  
  
sits with her head bowed. Starring at the plate. She  
  
moves slowly. Just picking through her food.  
  
For a single moment I want to scream. I sit there  
  
starring at her, a scream lodged in my head.   
  
I sit there while she slowly shuffles the food into  
  
her mouth. I don't eat. I can't eat. I rise.   
  
The sun comes into the window and warms my body.  
  
I hate it for daring to show its face today. I move  
  
towards the sink.  
  
My hands tremble as I reach out and silence the  
  
screaming radio. I hate them for trembling. I stand  
  
there. Clinging to the sink. Trying not to fall. I  
  
listen as she rises. As she moves up behind me.  
  
Then her voice, piercing the silence of the room:  
  
"John?" MOVE! MOVE!  
  
She needs me. I should move. But I'm afraid to. I  
  
might fall.  
  
I might actually feel. I might actually feel my  
  
bleeding heart. And that may be the death of me.  
  
So I say: "Just give me a minute."  
  
"Are you okay?" WHAT DO YOU THINK!?  
  
"Sure." LIAR  
  
Then I turn towards her. Ready to face her. Ready to  
  
lie. I wish I could tell her. That I can't save her. I  
  
can't help her. I can't even help myself.   
  
But I lie. I have to try. To save her, I try to smile.  
  
But the smile never reaches my eyes. Our eyes meet.  
  
She knows. I can see it in her eyes. She knows me all  
  
to well. She can read me like an open book.   
  
But she can't help me. She hasn't got the strength.  
  
She needs me to be her rock. I take her hand in mine.  
  
So small ... so cold ...  
  
so fragile.  
  
We walk into the bedroom, to the clothes I have laid  
  
out on the bed. A black dress. A black suit for me. I  
  
stand in the doorway and watch as she heads to the  
  
bathroom to take a shower.   
  
Then I move. I dare to move. I peel off my clothes. I  
  
stand there in the morning sun, trying to get warm but  
  
its no use. I shiver (tremble) as I reach for the  
  
suit.   
  
My hands tremble as I pull on the pants and the shirt.  
  
I curse them for being so weak. "Want some help?" She  
  
is standing in the doorway, dressed in a robe.   
  
Hair wet, she looks so small. Her face is pale. The  
  
skin is almost transparent. Our eyes meet as she moves  
  
towards me.  
  
"You should get ready."  
  
"Let me help with the tie."  
  
I stand there watching as she comes towards me, with  
  
the tie in one hand. I want to object.  
  
But I need her touch. For a single minute I let  
  
myself remember another time, another life when  
  
happiness was mine.   
  
Sundays going to church, Barbara with my tie in one  
  
hand, helping me to get dressed; Luke by her side  
  
telling me that I looked nice. Her voice brings me  
  
back to reality. "You look nice, John." She is  
  
standing before me, looking so fragile.  
  
Tired eyes meet mine; tired of life. Of pain. Of  
  
sorrow. She has given up. Hoping. She is fading away  
  
from me and there is nothing I can do about it. "Thank  
  
you."  
  
That's all I can say. I don't know what to say her  
  
anymore. My words seem so small, so shallow. Like they  
  
can bring her comfort. Nothing can. She moves towards  
  
the bed and pick up the dress. Her hands tremble as  
  
she stands there, with her back turned.  
  
"I don't want to go." Her voice pierces through the  
  
silence of the room.  
  
"Barbara..." "No, John...I can't.."  
  
I knew the feeling, the same plea screamed in my head.  
  
To stay away. Not go. Act like nothing was wrong. But  
  
I couldn't do that. It would only cause me to bleed  
  
more; I would die a slow and painful death.  
  
"Barbara, we have to."  
  
"No, we don't.. I can't go today. That would mean  
  
that he's gone and I don't know if I can handle  
  
that."   
  
"We can make it together. All we have to do is stay  
  
together." She turns towards me. Her eyes are dark as  
  
she looks at me. Her voice is barely a whisper: "Why  
  
did this happen? What have I done to deserve this?"   
  
"I don't know.. I wish."  
  
"Tell me that he's coming back..please."  
  
"You know I can't do that."  
  
"Lie to me."  
  
"We can make it..."  
  
"I don't know if I can."  
  
"Barbara..."  
  
I move towards her, but she moves away. Not wanting me  
  
to touch her. Its been a long time since I really got  
  
to hold her. To feel her arms around me. To hear her  
  
heart beating against mine.  
  
"I want him back...I don't know how to go on without  
  
him...Tell me how to..."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Please, tell me how to let go of him. My only son.   
  
Our Luke."  
  
"You have to.. We have to.. Otherwise you'll die."  
  
"I don't care.. Let it come."  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
Tears fill her eyes as she looks at me. "Why couldn't  
  
anyone save him?" "They tried.. You know that..."  
  
Her face changes in a second. Pain flashes across her  
  
face. Sorrow. Anger.  
  
"Why couldn't YOU save him?"  
  
Her words hit me right in the chest.  
  
"Barbara.. I.."  
  
She has no mercy as she continues:  
  
"No, John.. Why couldn't YOU save him? I want to  
  
know.."  
  
"Don't do this."  
  
"Tell me why the mighty John Doggett couldn't save his  
  
only son!"  
  
I back away from her. "Don't!"  
  
"No, let's hear it. We never even talked about it. You  
  
never explained."  
  
I want to run. I want to scream. But I remain calm  
  
while the storm is raging inside of me.  
  
She doesn't know what she is saying. She can't know  
  
the words I try to convince my own aching heart to  
  
believe, but it doesn't believe them.   
  
"Stop it, Barbara." "No! I won't back down.. Not this  
  
time.. Why didn't you save our son, John. You were  
  
supposed to be the tough cop. Why didn't you stop this  
  
from happening? Why did you have to stay late that  
  
night? You're supposed to protect your family from  
  
evil. You should have been here...But you never  
  
were...   
  
FOR GOD'S SAKE, JOHN! HE WAS YOUR SON TOO!!!!"  
  
Her scream fades to black. I stand there letting her  
  
words sink in and shatter my already fragile heart. I  
  
stand there while pieces [every little part] of me  
  
scatter in the wind.  
  
Our eyes meet. "Don't you feel anything?"  
  
Her voice is just a whisper.   
  
That was the end of me. Just like that. Anger run  
  
through my veins as I look at her. "Don't you think I  
  
have thought about what I should have done? Don't you  
  
think I have gone over every option? What if I had  
  
left an hour later? What if I hadn't stopped on the  
  
way? Don't you think I have thought about it?  
  
Because... I have... I hear his voice in my dreams..  
  
Calling my name.. I'm hearing our dead son in my  
  
dreams..  
  
Calling for help.. and I try to reach him...But I  
  
can't.... You're asking me if I don't feel  
  
anything.... The truth is that I can't... I won't let  
  
myself feel.   
  
Because that would be the end of me.. and I can't let  
  
that happen..." I stand there trying not to fall  
  
apart.  
  
"John, I..."  
  
"No, now it's your turn to listen...I know that you  
  
blame me for what happened..."  
  
"No, John.. I don't.."  
  
"Don't lie. I have seen the look in your eyes... For  
  
God's sake you don't even let me hold you anymore."  
  
"It's not.."  
  
"It's okay... I blame me... This was all my fault.. I  
  
can see that now... You're right... You are absolutely  
  
right... I should have saved him... It was my job....  
  
.  
  
And I......failed..."  
  
She moves towards me. Now it's my turn to move away.  
  
"John...please.. I..."  
  
"No, Barb.. I'm okay...I have to accept that I'm  
  
responsible for Luke's death. So if you want to blame  
  
someone...Blame me.. your husband.."  
  
"No.."  
  
"Shhhhh...I killed him....I killed Luke....."  
  
I stand there trying to fight off the demons, but it's  
  
hard fighting alone. Fighting for nothing. Silence  
  
follows.  
  
She is standing there in front of me while the sun  
  
reaches its long arms into the room. So I run. I walk  
  
out the room. Running away from her.   
  
I made it to the kitchen without falling apart. I sat  
  
down by the table. Trying to make the world stop  
  
spinning but its no use. I run my hand over the smooth  
  
surface of the table, remembering everything that had  
  
happened around there. "John?" She is standing in the  
  
doorway to our bedroom dressed in her black dress, her  
  
blond hair combed back into a ponytail. She looks  
  
younger. So fragile.  
  
"Are you ready?" "No."   
  
"Barbara." "But I know that I have to do this.."  
  
I rise. On weak legs I walk up to her. Her eyes are  
  
dark as they meet mine. I take her hand in mine.   
  
Her voice is barely a whisper as she speaks: "Don't  
  
let go...Don't ever let go...""Never." Then we walk  
  
together out of the house.   
  
The drive to the cemetery was the longest I have ever  
  
done. We passed houses were kids played on the lawn  
  
and housewives working in the garden.   
  
It wasn't fair.  
  
Don't they know? Don't they know that he's dead?  
  
Shouldn't the world stop turning? We passed houses  
  
were people were happy. Perfect houses. Perfect  
  
families.  
  
I watch Barbara from the corner of my eye. She is  
  
sitting beside me clinging to her purse like it could  
  
save her from what is to come. I wish I could ease her  
  
pain somehow, to erase all of this. Bring him back to  
  
us, safe and unharmed. I used to think that I could do  
  
anything. I used to think that there were no obstacles  
  
I couldn't climb.  
  
Until this. Until him. Until now.   
  
Guess I was wrong.   
  
The cemetery came in view. The church where the  
  
service will take place. My hands tremble a little as  
  
I parked the car. We sit there in silence in the  
  
parking lot outside the church; neither of us dares to  
  
move. To speak. I try to get my heart to beat again. I  
  
try to breathe. It's getting harder. "I guess we  
  
should go in." The world comes back with the sound of  
  
her voice. I look at her. Our eyes meet. "I guess."  
  
I want to tell her that we can stay here a little  
  
longer. Just a minute longer. Not wanting to go just  
  
yet, but I guess I'm acting silly. I open the door and  
  
step out. It's amazing that my legs are still working.  
  
My hands tremble once again as I put the key in the  
  
door and lock it. Barbara comes around on my side and  
  
takes my hand. So cold. So small in mine.  
  
We walk in silence over to the church. I have never  
  
believed in a god, and I'm not going to start now. He  
  
has no mercy. Luke was just a boy. A boy that hurt no  
  
one. We walk inside. The coffin is standing in front  
  
of the altar. With God looking down on him. We have  
  
requested a closed coffin. I don't think I could take  
  
seeing him lying there.   
  
Luke. My boy.   
  
We walk forward down the aisle, clinging to each  
  
other. I can feel the pain rip through her body. I  
  
keep my eyes fixed at the coffin. Expecting the lid to  
  
fly open and he jumps out shouting that this was all a  
  
mistake. It had to be.  
  
Silly. Stupid.  
  
I want to run. Just turn around and run out the door.  
  
But I can't. I can't run from this. Not this time.   
  
We sit down in the front row. Silence. The only thing  
  
that pierces the silence is the muffled sound of organ  
  
music. I keep my eyes fixed at the coffin. It's so  
  
small. Covered with white roses and lilies. I was the  
  
one that chose the flowers and the coffin. I couldn't  
  
ask her to do it, so I did. Her hand finds its way to  
  
mine. She doesn't have to speak. I know what she is  
  
thinking. Our eyes meet. She is crying silently. I  
  
cling to her hand. I want to say something, anything.  
  
I search for the right words to ease her pain, but I  
  
find nothing. I return to starring at the coffin,  
  
while the mourners come. They walk past us. They nod  
  
and say how sorry they are.   
  
Friends, neighbors, strangers.  
  
They walk past the coffin. Somebody places flowers  
  
beside it; others pray. A scream lingers in my mind.  
  
They can't know what it's like.   
  
They can't know our pain.   
  
Their words can't mend our hearts. I sit there  
  
listening to her sobbing, trying not to break. Trying  
  
not to let myself feel. It's better this way.   
  
Numb. Maybe then I will survive.  
  
The priest enters from a side door and come towards  
  
us, an old man with white hair and yellow teeth. He  
  
gives us a little smile. "How are you two doing?" I  
  
want to punch him for thinking things might change.  
  
I want to scream: WE ARE BURYING OUR SON TODAY! HOW  
  
DO YOU THINK WE ARE DOING!? But I remain my calm  
  
self. So I lie and say: "It's okay."  
  
"I will start now, if that's okay.."  
  
"Sure." NNNOOOO!!!!!  
  
I'm not ready. Not yet. To say goodbye to him. To lose  
  
him. But there was no time left. No time for us.  
  
The service starts and I sit there like a zombie, half  
  
alive. With a bleeding heart. With a crushed soul.  
  
Trying to breathe. Trying to make my heart move. Time  
  
passes so quickly for the man of the hour.   
  
The service comes to its end. I rise. I take her hand  
  
in mine. We start to walk.   
  
Follow the coffin. To its final resting place.  
  
We walk in silence, clinging to each other, Barbara  
  
and I. We pass people, mourners. Friends. Family. I  
  
can't look them in the eye. Not yet. Not now. I need  
  
to find strength to face them.   
  
The sun warms my face as we exit the church. Such a  
  
beautiful day. The need to run washes over me suddenly  
  
but I brush it aside. Knowing I have to stand by her  
  
side. She is counting on me to be the strong one. I  
  
wish I were. Strong.  
  
We arrive at the grave. I stand there with her hand in  
  
mine. My eyes are fixed at that dark hole that will be  
  
his resting place.   
  
The ceremony starts. The last goodbye. I feel so cold;  
  
it chills me right to the bone. "Ashes to ashes, dust  
  
to dust..."   
  
The priest's voice brings me back to reality.   
  
Take me away.   
  
Take my life. I don't need it anymore. I can't  
  
survive this. I don't know if I want to live. It feels  
  
like every part of me will scatter in the wind and  
  
it's only my skin that holds it back.   
  
The pain is indescribable. It takes my breath away. I  
  
can't breathe. I panic. It feels like someone has  
  
taken a hammer to my heart, a knife to my soul.  
  
Slowly, but surely, killing me.   
  
The priest finishes the ceremony and our eyes meet. He  
  
wants me to move, to be the first one to say goodbye.  
  
I let go of her hand and walk those few feet to the  
  
coffin. My legs feel weak as I kneel down and pick up  
  
a handful with dirt.   
  
I rise. I stand there with the dirt in one hand while  
  
the memories comes crushing down on me. His face his  
  
before me. Luke. My beautiful boy. I grasp for air as  
  
tears makes my vision blurry.  
  
I can't fall. I will not fall.  
  
Please, God, let death come for me now.  
  
Come to me now. Take me away.   
  
I can't do this. I'm not ready, for god's sake.   
  
I can't say goodbye to him. Not yet. It's too soon.  
  
Please.  
  
Please.  
  
I cling to the dirt like it can save me from the pain  
  
that surely will be the death of me.  
  
"Luke........"  
  
He is smiling. I can almost hear his voice.  
  
Calling me. Calling my name.   
  
Daddy. "Goodbye."  
  
I let go of the dirt and let it fall over the coffin.  
  
I stumble backwards, fumbling with my coat.  
  
I try to brush away the tears with the back of my  
  
hand.  
  
She moves. Barbara. She stumbles forward.  
  
Then with a cry she falls to her knees.  
  
In front of the coffin.  
  
She screams his name to the blue sky:  
  
"LLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKEEE!!!!!"  
  
Her cry is a plea,  
  
To a God that has no mercy.  
  
To a God that took her only son.  
  
That took her heart.  
  
She slams her angry fists into the ground crying out a  
  
plea to bring her son back to her. I should move. I  
  
know. But I can't.   
  
My legs won't move. All I can feel is the explosion  
  
that breaks my insides into millions of pieces.   
  
How it hurts! God, it hurts.  
  
The only sound that pierces the silence of the  
  
cemetery is her voice.  
  
I move. Slowly. I help her up. She falls into me.  
  
She buries her face in my jacket. And she cries.  
  
Then she lifts her head towards me. Our eyes meet.  
  
"I thought I could do this...I was so sure... But..  
  
God... John... Luke...Our boy...I can't....Please..."  
  
"I know." My voice is barely a whisper.  
  
"Tell me, please.. God.. tell me that he will come  
  
back to us. I can't do this... without him... I  
  
can't..."  
  
"Let's get you out of here..."  
  
I take her hand in mine, And we start to walk. She  
  
clings to me while we make our way towards the car.  
  
I know it's too soon for her to say goodbye.  
  
She needs to make her peace. It will not happen today.  
  
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not ever. She climbs into  
  
the car.  
  
Her eyes are dark. Distant. Her mind is miles away.  
  
I climb in and turn the key. I try to breathe. I dare  
  
to breathe. The pain strikes once again. I grasp for  
  
air.   
  
I need to be strong. I have to be strong.  
  
I can't fall. Won't fall.  
  
With those words ringing in my ear we head home.   
  
The house is dark as we arrive.  
  
I help her inside. I lay her down on our bed.  
  
Her eyes are blank. Broken. Like me. Broken.  
  
I wrap a blanket around her body. Then I leave the  
  
room.  
  
I walk around the house like a zombie.  
  
I end up in his room eventually.  
  
It called out to me. Begging me to come.   
  
I stop in front of the door. My hand trembles as I  
  
turn the doorknob. I hold my breath. I almost expect  
  
him calling my name as I enter the room. But all I  
  
hear is silence.   
  
We have left it just as he has left it. I know that we  
  
have to start packing up his things. Realize that he  
  
isn't coming back. Our boy isn't coming home. All  
  
those memories this room held came crashing down on  
  
me.   
  
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy...DADDY!" His voice.. God..  
  
Luke...  
  
It's amazing. I can almost feel him. His little hand  
  
in mine. His favorite teddy bear is lying on the bed.  
  
I walk up to the bed and with trembling hands I pick  
  
it up.  
  
The scent that shimmers out from the soft fabric was  
  
the end of me. I bury my nose in the soft heaven and I  
  
inhale.   
  
His scent. Luke.  
  
And with a cry I fall. With a scream I die. A muffled  
  
scream.  
  
"LLUKKKEEE!"  
  
The tears come suddenly. I crumble to the ground.  
  
And I cry. God, I cry. Everything I had been holding  
  
back, every feeling I had suppressed came crashing  
  
down on me.  
  
All at once. Let death come. Now. Put me to sleep.  
  
"I know we haven't talked in a while..."  
  
Talking to a God that only brought pain.  
  
"I know that I haven't been good...But I have tried..  
  
I have tried to be a good man...Please... PLEASE...  
  
Don't... DO this! I'm begging you.. Don't take  
  
him....! If somebody has to die... Then take me.. ME!  
  
I deserve it!   
  
Take my life.. Just spare him.. Spare my son...  
  
Please.. Bring him back to me!!!!! PLLLLEASE GOD!!!!!"  
  
In that moment, in that single moment something inside  
  
of me died. I can feel it. I hate the heart that is  
  
pounding in my chest.   
  
Take me away. Let me die. I can't take this. Not  
  
anymore.  
  
I'm not ready to let him go. Not yet.   
  
**********************************  
  
Feedback---j_rothen@yahoo.se 


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